Spark
by panicattackkisses
Summary: Stiles suffers from the after effects of the Nogitsune and Lydia helps bring back that spark in his eyes that she knows so well. Stydia fluff and stuff.


_Allison will never die in my stories 'cause that girl is a hero goddammit, plus I'm in the 146__th__ stage of denial._

History seemed to last an age, the slowly ticking clock was too loud and sound of chalk scratching the blackboard caused Lydia's whole body to flinch. Her pen lid was chewed to an unrecognisable mess and at one point during the presentation of the Great Depression, her neatly written notes and become a mass of dark scrawls.  
Lydia's worried eyes had not once left the back of Stiles head. His messy dark hair looked even more unkempt than usual and he was wearing the same shirt he had worn yesterday. Lydia was convinced he hadn't slept last night.  
Going by the frightening purple smudges under his dull eyes, she was sure of it.

It had been two weeks since her friend had been possessed and terrorised by the Nogitsune. She didn't expect Stiles to return to normal the next day, nor after two weeks for that matter. But Lydia was desperate; she longed to see Stiles smile, to say more than seven syllables a day. More than anything, she wanted to see that spark back in his now lifeless brown eyes.  
They were no longer the warm, melted chocolate that she had grown so accustomed to – the ones that she found comfort and solace in. They were now two dark pits, empty and a flat, muddy brown.

He never looked troubled, or upset, she mused. He wasn't angry or worried. He was empty, there was no spark. That fact alone terrified Lydia more than anything else in the world. For Lydia, the one thing that made Stiles the boy that she knew and loved was the constant spark in his eyes. Whether it was for laughing with his friends, finding out the answer to a once unsolvable puzzle, being terrified for his loved ones safety, or sometimes, even just for her – Stiles always had passion and excitement burning within him.  
She had just gotten Stiles back from the grips of a Japanese demon. She wasn't ready to lose him again. Not for a second.

The bell finally rang and Stiles slowly stirred to life, tearing his eyes away from the same spot on his desk that he had been transfixed to for the entire class. Lydia gathered her belongings, haphazardly throwing them into her bag – all the while, still watching the boy with concerned eyes. For the first time that day, he looked at her, his eyes glazed over. He made no reaction to her hopefully smile. Stiles limply picked up his bags and walked out of class.  
Her heart broke for the seventeenth time that week. She was at a loss.

The cafeteria was a hub of noise as Lydia entered; a stark contrast to the emptiness inside her head. Skipping the queue for food completely, she made her way through the crowd of happy, normal teenagers to the packs usual table at the back.

Everyone was present, except Stiles.

She sat down, already exhausted from her day; exchanging small smiles with her friends as Allison leant her head on Lydia's in comfort. Noticing her missing lunch, Isaac paused his quiet conversation with Ethan to push half of his sandwich across the table to her. With a stern look, he told her, ''Eat, please.''  
With another watery smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she said thank you and nibbled for the sake of her worried friend.  
Bringing up the obvious and increasingly distressing elephant in the room, she turned to Scott, who looked just has sick as she felt.  
''Where's Stiles?'' Her voice cracked at his name.  
Scott's frown deepened, his voice hoarse like her own, ''I think he's in the library, I don't really know. He's avoiding me.'' Allison placed a comforting hand on his arm, squeezing gently, ''His dad mentioned something along the lines of post-traumatic stress.''  
Isaac cut in, ''He's not been sleeping'', he sighed before continuing, ''At all.''  
Lydia knew as much and the mention of PTSD only raised her concerns.  
Scott spoke to her with sympathy, ''There's nothing we can do right now Lydia, expect be there for him when he decides he needs us. We've all tried to talk to him.''  
''We've tried everything'', Allison murmured, pushing her still full plate away from her.

Lydia shook her head fiercely, refusing to believe that this was it, this is what her friend was destined for – an empty, withdrawn shell of the animated boy he used to be. Muttering, ''no'' over and over, she rose to her feet with a sudden determination and marched out of the lunch hall.  
The library was silent and completely empty; Lydia had searched every dark corner and aisle three times over, before asking the librarian if anyone had come in during lunch. When the old lady shook her with disinterest, Lydia walked back into the corridor, the once burning resolve inside her now slowly subsidising.  
Then, by chance, her mind wandered back to a time where a panicked and anxious Stile once ran to. With purpose, she turned on her heel and didn't hesitate before pushing open the door the boys locker rooms.  
She didn't realise that she had been holding her breath in anticipation until it came rushing out of her in relief. The sight of her broken Stiles, crumpled on the cold, hard tiles brought a lump to her throat.  
''Stiles?'' Lydia whispered.  
Nothing. She tried again, clearing her throat beforehand, ''Stiles.'' Still nothing.  
He stared blankly at his hands that sat unfolded in front of him, his skin pale and ashen.  
Lydia called his name five more times, each with more conviction as she took a few more steps closed to him.  
''STILES.''  
He flinched at the sudden volume and god forbid Lydia was happy at just that. She knelt on the floor in front of him, the situation all too familiar.  
Grabbing his hands in her own, she gasped at how cold he was.  
''Stiles, Stiles please; I know you can hear me God dammit!''  
Stiles' eyes finally seemed to shift into focus as he looked into her own frantic pair. He sighed heavily, exhausted from the action.  
''Lydia.'' It was a statement void of emotion and it crushed her. She needed more; this was not her Stiles. She was going to bring that passion back to him, that spark she needed to see.  
''Stiles, listen to me, please, okay?''  
He nodded, now more aware and Lydia was so thankful, tears dripped down her cheeks and her lips trembled with each word.  
''You need to come back to us Stiles; your dad and all your friends – and me. Please come back, okay? We need you, we need you so much. We need your smile back, and your laugh. I miss hearing your stupid jokes and seeing your stupid jeep outside my house at midnight cause you needed to tell me about a new movie you watched.'' Lydia laughed through choked sobs, ''I need you to tell me you're going to be okay, I need you to tell me that I can help you – I want to fix you Stiles, please, please God, tell me how!''  
Her shaking hands cradled his cheeks, ensuring he looked at her, making sure he heard each word she spoke.  
''You need to go back to practice and you need to mess up my experiments in Chemistry, I promise I'll never yell at you again if you do. I'll watch Spiderman with you, all of them and any other geeky movie you want me to, I swear I will just please, come back to me.''

His eyes scanned her face slowly, taking in her tearstained cheeks and wide, worried eyes. He opened his dry, chapped lips as if to speak and Lydia's heart leapt.  
''I – I don't know how.'' His voice was dry and cracked at every syllable but Lydia didn't care. He had spoken; he had said words to her for the first time in two weeks.  
She moved even closer to him, sitting between his outstretched legs and softly caressing the small curls at the nape of his neck.  
''it's okay Stiles'', she promised him, ''it's fine, I'll fix it for you, I will.''

With more desperation filling her heart than ever, she racked her brain for anything, absolutely anything that would bring the passion and life back into the boy before her.  
She made a decision.

She was sure she stopped breathing completely as she crushed her lips to Stiles' with fervour. Her eyes were squeezed shut, the last of her tears escaping and streaking between both of their cheeks. His cheeks grew hot beneath her hands and she continued to stroke soft circles on them as their lips parted.  
Lydia didn't dare open her eyes. She moved back mere inches, still close enough to feel his warm, uneven breath dance across her still parted lips.  
Sitting there, in the boys locker room with her eyes closed tightly, she waited for what seemed a century. When Stiles ran his thumb across her bottom lip, her stomach dropped and she could have sworn something tugged at her heart.  
Lydia opened her eyes to see Stiles starting at her lips, mesmerized at the motion of his thumb sweeping back and forth, back and forth.  
She only caught a flash of warm, liquid chocolate eyes before his lips crashed down hers. His fingers wound their way into her strawberry blonde curls, pulling her closer so she was practically on his lap.  
Lydia knew her heart had never beaten so fast and more tears threatened to fall at the sudden animation of Stiles. Pure, unclouded relief flooded her body, electricity shot through her veins and sudden heat erupted from her.

She couldn't dwell on these reactions for long; her brain was too focused on the frantic, soft movements of Stiles' lips. His tongue sought out her own, silently asking for entry as it swept across her lip, enticing a gasp from Lydia.  
Taking advantage of her open mouth, Stiles kissed her more deeply, his hand gripping her hip with desperate longing and need. She felt, rather than heard the rumbled groan in his chest and it brought her back to her sense - and their surroundings.  
Breathing heavily, Lydia pulled away from his heated embrace with instant regret. Hoping for the best and fearing the worst, she peered up from under her eyelashes as she struggled to contain her blush. Stiles sat before her – under her – breathing heavily. His chest heaved and his hair was wild from her relentless touch.  
What Lydia was exhilarated to see however, was his eyes were just as wild as his hair. The deep brown pools had transformed from when she last looked into them, only minutes ago. They were molten, exuding lust and heavy from their kiss. They were warm and familiar and best of all, alive. The spark was back, her spark – the passion was there.  
Heat pooled in her stomach at the realisation of how the passion was brought back. Her blush deepened but nothing could take the ecstatic grin from her swollen lips.  
Still breathing like he had ran a marathon, Stiles lips opened and closed before muttering, ''Shit.''

Lydia knew a lot had to be spoken about and Stiles needed a lot more help, but for now, that was enough for her. Her Stiles was back.


End file.
